


Coincidence? I Think Not!

by Shinichi17CP



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, First Meetings, M/M, Pre-S.H.I.E.L.D. Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 14:03:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1390495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinichi17CP/pseuds/Shinichi17CP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 times they crossed paths and 1 time they took the same road.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coincidence? I Think Not!

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a promt by KuriKuri: just keep running into each other everywhere AU

1\.      Shit! Shit! Shit! Unless the queue picked up its pace, he was going to be late for work and he could not afford for that to happen. Why couldn’t people decide on their orders before lining up? By the time he finally received his coffee and pastry, the only way to arrive at the HQ on time thus prevent Fury from chewing him another one, was to race down there. And that is what he did. He ran and dodged passersby as best as he could, which for Agent Philip Coulson, was quite proficiently mind you.  
  
But luck was not on his side today, that was the only reason why, at least that was his excuse if anyone asked, he would manage to miss and crash into a six feet tall pedestrian with  _very_ impressive arms and chest, spilling half of his coffee content on them both and his dog, and dropping his breakfast in the process.  
  
“Aww, coffee, no!”  
  
Well, he expected various reactions like yelling, glaring or punching even, but definitely not that. Phil lifted his head and was about to apologize but thoughts flew out of his mind and words got stuck in his throat once the stranger looked over at him with those startlingly piercing blue eyes.  
  
“I…uh…I…am sorry?” sputtered the senior agent.  
  
Way to make a memorable impression! And did he just stutter? Did he, the agent’s agent, Director Fury’s right hand, the rumored-to-be-a-robot agent fucking stutter?  
  
“It’s ok, shit happens. But you should go, aren’t you late for something?” the blue-eyed man asked, giving him a small crooked smile that took, no, punched the breath out of him.  
  
“Oh…uh...yes. Sorry again.” stammered Phil who then proceeded to hightail the hell out of there before he could embarrass himself even more. He was sure if it was not for all his training at scolding his emotions, his face would be beet red. Although he did feel a slight heat to his cheeks, he would never admit that to anyone to save his life.  
  
And if other agents, especially juniors one who gossip too much, freaked out when they saw him wearing a small uptilt to his lips in the corridors, it absolutely, certainly was not because of the handsome guy he bumped into that morning.

  
  
2\.      This was the worst possible time ever to stumble across your love at first sight. Or lust? Crush? Whatever. The problem was that he was on a date, and the attractive man from the streets was sitting four tables away with his partner, a gorgeous woman with flaring red hair, and he was wearing a suit! A grey three-piece suit that hugged his muscles all in the right ways and showed off his splendid ass.  
  
With every glance in that direction, Phil got a little bit too excited but thankfully Scott, his date, did not even notice, too immersed in his talk probably about something he achieved. God this guy was self-centered to the point where the usually calm senior agent would love to knock him out just to shut him up for a minute if it was not for the distraction that drew all of his attention off of the babbling.  
  
Phil wondered why he even considered going out with him. No doubt he was lonely, desperate for some company that was not related to his dangerous job. It has been 3 years since he last saw someone and throw in his sister’s fuss about it every time they talked, it was bound to get to him sooner or later.  
  
For what felt like the umpteenth peek, he found the man already staring back at him and their eyes met, his mouth turned slowly into a smirk which made Phil’s brain short-circuit and his lungs unable to work. You can not really blame him for his reaction because that smirk was filthy and full of promises. The wink that followed did not help in any way.  
  
Phil quickly excused himself and darted off to the bathroom without waiting for a response from Scott, too busy hiding his raging hard-on from everyone but mostly the stunning fellow lounging a few tables down.  
  
The leer that met him on the way back was enough to indicate his failure in the task.  


  
3\.      It should be a worldwide rule that R&D experiments can only be executed in an open field with no one within a 5 miles radius or at least oblige them to make sure their Night-Night guns would not explode and destroy the majority of the firing range.  
  
 As a result, half of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s agents had to practice their aim in public shooting ranges. Which is where Phil found himself in the late afternoon, emptying clip after clip on unmoving, boring targets until people started shouting and laughing.  
  
“Look who’s here, the circus freak has arrived”  
“Seriously, who do you think you are? Robin Hood? Are you gonna steal from the rich to give the poor?”  
“Why do you even bother showing up here weirdo? This ain’t a place for medieval geeks.”  
  
When Phil turned around to detect the source of the laughter, it was to find the man who has been invading his thoughts for the past few weeks, standing defensively at the doorway, gripping his bow tightly until his knuckles turned white.  
  
Staying at the entrance, the archer quickly nocked an arrow, drew then let go of the string, the arrow wheezing close to one of the aggressors causing a tiny cut on his cheek from the fletching, burrowed itself perfectly in the bullseye of a target standing 85 feet away from the shooter. A deafening silence fell over the room as everyone watched in amazement as another arrow flew across the room, embedding itself in the same bullseye, splitting the previous arrow’s shaft in two.  
  
Philip ‘Phil’ James Coulson has been a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent for several years now and a witness of plenty extraordinary moves, but never has he ever been so turned on by one. He may or may not have been biased when proclaiming that statement.  
  
When the archer spotted him standing in the midst of the growing crowd, he merely lifted the corners of his mouth, promptly darted his eyes away and hastily relocated himself on the lane furthest away from everybody where you could efficiently take in the entire layout of the room.   
  
Not wanting to miss a chance to get acquainted with the stranger he has somewhat been obsessed with, Phil had every intention to join the man and strike a conversation with him. Except that before he could take another step forward, his S.H.I.E.L.D. issued cell phone’s ringtone echoed throughout the room.  
  
It was, of course, special agent Hill ordering him to return to base in order to debrief on a newly arrived intel about his ongoing assignment.  
  
With what was supposed to be a last glance towards the archer, now wholly concentrated on his marks, Phil found himself unable to tear his eyes off of the image unfolding before him.  For a moment, the agent just stood there, savoring the view in front of him then abruptly turned away and headed for the exit.  


  
4\.      Turns out the intel was not as reliable as they thought. The mission went haywire as soon as he stepped one foot in that old, dirty warehouse. Bullets started flying in every direction, curses and yells cut through the air but thankfully nobody got put down, some received a number of cuts and grazes and a few got a bullet here and there, including agent Coulson.  
  
He was currently lying in a hospital bed, slowly dying from the lack of work and increasing silence excluding the beeping coming from a heart rate monitor. His doctor refused to discharge him because he was shot just 2 hours ago for god’s sake, would not accept any excuse thrown at him and clearly was not accounting the fact that Phil was a government super secret badass spy and did not even blink at the threats swung his way, which is why he has not been transferred to a S.H.I.E.L.D. medical facility yet.  
  
After this clusterfuck is over, Phil might come back here and offer the stubborn medic a new job, S.H.I.E.L.D.’s medical team have been in need of someone who will take no bullshit from their patients no matter their rank and do their job properly.  
  
Out of sheer boredom, he started daydreaming about his favourite archer, about his calloused hands, the pull of his muscles when he pulled the bow’s string, the concentration in those eyes when zeroing on a target, imagining how it would feel like to have them focusing on him sent shivers down his spine.  
  
And speaking of the devil, he just emerged outside his room and accompanying him was a younger dark-haired woman wearing some kind of sleeveless purple jumpsuit. This would be the fourth time they ran into each other, not that Phil was keeping count but that is a load of encounters with an attractive stranger. If this was a fairy tail, it would probably be a sign that he was Phil’s soul mate or something, not that he was complaining.  
  
But never in a million years would he admit that a goofy grin wormed its way on his face when the man in question caught his eye through the glass door. He returned a soft smile of his own but his crystal blue eyes displayed worry and concern with a hint of  _Are you alright?_ . And this was quickly becoming pathetic because they did not even know each others names!  
  
Phil nodded anyway before the archer was dragged away and before he was rewarded with a small but blinding grin.  
  
His day just suddenly got a whole lot better.  
  
5\.      “Well look at what the cat dragged in. Honestly didn’t expect to find a suit like you in a rotting place like this.”  
  
It took him a bit longer than he would like to realize that the voice was talking to him. Phil looked up from his half-empty bottle and swallowed his comeback, previously resting on the tip of his tongue, as soon as he saw who the speaker was.  
  
“Somehow I am not surprised that we meet again.” Phil calmly responded and took another swing of his beer before looking back at the newcomer.  
  
This time he was sporting a tight purple shirt, light blue jeans and, Phil noticed, a great deal of bandages. This roughed up image actually looked pretty good on him. He suddenly became aware of how painfully hard he had gotten under the table and struggled to keep his composure when the archer chose to sit next to him, close enough for their shoulders and knees to come in contact now and then, instead of in the vacant seat across from them.  
  
“So what brings you to this area? Last time I checked, this hell hole isn’t exactly a place for highly paid workers who can afford a tailored suit to clubs.”  
  
Phil raised his eyebrow at that. Not many people could tell the difference between a custom-designed and off the rack suit. He was surprised, the pleased kind of surprised by all means, those keen eyes just made the man more appealing than he thought was possible.  
  
Before he could utter a word, the man leaned in close so his lips were brushing his ear, hot breath caressing his cheek and murmured “Maybe you would like to get out of here?”  
  
“Buy me a drink first” He wanted to kick himself in the face because the guy he has been fantasizing about was offering him a chance to fulfill his desires and what he does is make him buy a beverage. No wonder he has not gotten laid for a while aside from his thinning hair and bland look.  
  
But when the archer pulled back, he could only see amusement in his eyes, no sign of annoyance or frustration. “You’re such hard work”  
  
And because his brain filter would not work around this gorgeous man  
“But worth it” stumbled out of his mouth before he could stop himself. He decided it maybe was not as bad when he was met with a low chuckle and sparkling eyes.  
  
Of course, that was when his phone decided to make itself known, informing him that Director Fury already found him a new mission. He sent an apologetic look towards the man who tightly smiled at him and looked down at his empty glass.  
  
“I’m sorry, I have to go. There’s been a situation. Work-related.”  
  
“It’s okay, I was planning to go home soon anyways. No worries.” Which was plainly a lie but Phil was not about to call him out on that.  
  
He hurriedly got up and left the small fetid bar without glancing back at the booth before he did something stupid.  
  
 +1.     Hawkeye. That was the alias of the bow-carrying assassin with a perfect aim he was supposed to either take in or take out, also known as Clint Francis Barton. Rumors were he was capable of seeing anything situated a distance-that-would-rendeer-the-searched-element-invisible-for-a-normal-human-being’s-eyes away, achieve what professional snipers would consider as impossible shots and used godforsaken paleolithic weapons.  
  
His team was currently discarded all over the presumed site where the bowman was supposed to meet his new client, a mediocre Russian mafia leader. There were 3 snipers scouring the territory in different nests, 7 field agents and 2 handlers, agent Coulson and agent Sitwell.  
  
He should have known not to underestimate a mercenary with perfect eyesight, it took him all too long to realize that their marksmen have all been neutralized, giving their enemy sufficient time to sneak up on the group of experienced operatives and subdue them, but not enough to escape a bullet to the thigh intended for him.  
  
Phil slowly approached with his gun strained towards the assailant now leaning against a wall.  At the sound of footsteps, he looked up but the building’s shadow still covered most of his facial features.  
  
“You fucking shot me!” he shouted, his tone appeared to be altered by a voice enhancer but had a touch of familiarity to it.  
  
“I apologize that we couldn’t meet under better circumstances, Mr. Barton, but S.H.I.E.L.D. has an offer for you that couldn’t wait anymore.”  
  
“You could’ve done that without shooting me! And I’m not an expert but I’m pretty sure our 5 previous meetings could be classified as better circumstances.”  
  
As he was about to question the man’s words, he hauled himself up and the agent froze in his spot when he saw his opponent’s face. He was not really as surprised as he should have been.  
  
He cleared his throat, mouth suddenly dry “Mr. Barton, as I previously said, we have an offer for you. We would like to hire you for your remarkable skills as well as help you develop others in order to do this world some good. In exchange, you’ll be provided-”  
  
“Deal.” Barton said simply.  
  
“But I didn’t even finish telling you our arrangements.” Phil protested before mentally kicking himself. One of the most dangerous assassins was offering to work with him no matter the conditions and he was complaining.  
  
“Don’t care. Although I do have one condition.” He said shrugging, his head tilting to one side and a sly smile spreading on his lips.  
  
“What is it?” the agent demanded, his eyebrows furrowing in wariness.  
  
“Let’s go on a date, get some dinner maybe.”  
  
Phil blinked in shock, not prepared for this kind of request, his brain taking time to process Barton’s words before he was able to let out an almost mutted “Deal.”.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic so please, any feedback is welcome.  
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
